


we didn't need this kind of drunken revelation

by ivelostmyspectacles



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Drunken Kissing, Jealous Ravus, M/M, Noct's 17 so there's that, Pre-Canon, References to Underage Sex, Secret Crush, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 15:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15866754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/ivelostmyspectacles
Summary: He would let his anger simmer, and then force himself to rejoin the mingling. He would not let his mind linger on the prince of Lucis, and the red mark that must have been stinging at his throat.aka Ravus realizes he's in love with the prince of Lucis, andgodsif that isn't wholly inconvenient





	we didn't need this kind of drunken revelation

**Author's Note:**

> there's no descriptions of any underage sexual content, but noct makes it quite clear he has had ~~and is actively trying to have~~ sex so if that, mildly dubious drunken decisions, or the age gap bugs you, you might want to sit this one out!

Unfortunate as though it may be, it wasn’t until Ravus was twenty-five that he realized he was in love the prince of Lucis. Perhaps more unfortunate was the matter of the prince of Lucis being betrothed to his _sister_ , and that Ravus realized his… _feelings_ when the prince in question just happened to be completely and utterly intoxicated.

  


The ballroom was lavish, ornately decorated for the gathering of nations. A momentous occasion. Lucis and Niflheim, come together at last. Ravus breathed a sigh into his glass of champagne, and wondered perhaps if he ought not to have started with something stronger. The alcohol was well alight in his veins, but never enough to dull the sharpened edges of careful conversations, words plucked from intelligence and false reassurances to bring peace between the kingdoms. It was ludicrous, as was this entire soirée.

And yet, he was here, doomed to drown out the incessant chatter of boisterous companions with the drinks he had kept steadily in hand. For all of his desperation to stay away from the kingdom who had so wronged them, here he was, stuck within its gilded walls.

So too was everyone else, raucous as though they may be.

A burst of laughter drew Ravus’s attention away from the bar, to a face once familiar but nine years ago. The prince of Lucis, surrounded by a handful of people chattering loudly. Even Noctis was laughing, gesticulating wildly with his hands, and Ravus raised a singular eyebrow upon realizing the young scion of the Caelum bloodline was, as the rest of them seemed to be, thoroughly inebriated.

Appalling.

As Ravus watched, Noctis leaned in to one of his male companions to speak. They were all laughing too loudly, and although Ravus could not hear what they were speaking of, the very look on the prince’s face gave enough explanation in itself. Coy, _inappropriate,_ encouraged by lipstick on his collar and a clumsy hand reaching to nudge at the male companion’s arm and settle there.

The young prince was drunk, and seemingly attempting to find a conquest.

Something about that settled low, deep into his stomach in a way Ravus couldn’t quite describe. The unknown male caught Noctis’s hand in his own, and all but pulled him away from the gaggle of young women and few men. Ravus watched as the two vanished off around the corner, and the fire in his gut propelled him to his feet to follow after.

It would be because of Lunafreya, Ravus reasoned, that he did. If their families were to enter into a union– damned as though it may be– trust that he would not stand by and allow Noctis to behave in such a way. He was moving before he realized it, and clearing the distance easily between himself and the drunken idiots frantically kissing in an open doorway of one of the Citadel’s many empty rooms.

He caught Noctis’s hand just as it was about to slip up under his unnamed tryst’s shirt, and held on tightly enough that it must have hurt. His suspicions were confirmed, a moment later.

“Ow– _fuck,_ what’s–” Noctis tilted his head up and squinted at him, a rosy glow set high upon his cheeks. His eyes were bright. “… Ravus?” he slurred, and then whined as his partner scrambled away. “No wait–” he started, but the young man had already gone. Noctis whined again, and fixed his wavering gaze back on Ravus. “What was that for?!”

“What in the Six’s name do you think you’re _doing?”_ Ravus retorted. He was angry, inexplicably so– but then, he supposed, it wasn’t so inexplicable after all.

“I’m _trying_ to have some fun!” Noctis retaliated, voice sharp. He was being too loud, although he lacked the conviction of someone who was sober might have had.

“If you wish to besmirch the name of the Caelum bloodline, you are free to do so on your own time,” Ravus said, “but if your actions besmirch the name of the Fleuret house as well, then I am honor bound–”

 _“Astrals,”_ Noctis interrupted, tipping his head back against the wall. It landed with a dull thunk, and he scrubbed the heel of his palm against his forehead. “‘s just _fun,_ Ravus.”

“My _sister_ does not think so little of your impending union.”

Noctis’s face screwed up. “It’s not–” That prompted him upright, insofar as he could manage. “‘m still gonna marry her. I don’t… not _like_ her. I’m just…” He waved his hands, vaguely.

Ravus raised his eyebrows, and wondered if the prince of Lucis was trying to tell him that he was homosexual. It mattered little, ultimately; Noctis’s sexuality remained to be of no concern to Ravus, and yet the visual image of the prince and that young man _clawing_ at each other still remained in the forefront of his mind. Regardless of proclivities, Noctis was due to be married… to Lunafreya, and no one else.

… he did admit, begrudgingly, it was mildly humorous that Noctis’s apparent compulsory heterosexuality disintegrated when he was drinking. A feeling Ravus had felt keenly, once, on such occasion he allowed himself to drink to excess, and not one worth dwelling on.

“You will not be unfaithful to my sister,” he warned aloud, and Noctis wrinkled his nose.

“Don’t wanna be unfaithful, I just wanna have sex,” he blurted. “Something you should try.”

 _Quaint._ The word nearly slipped out unbidden. Perhaps he had had more to drink than he had previously thought.

“At least I _have_ sex,” Noctis continued, and Ravus puffed out a short breath of annoyance.

“Just because you possess the capability to flout yourself like a common whore, it does not mean that you _should,”_ he hissed. “You should respect your people more than that, Prince Noctis.”

“I was _trying_ to _fuck_ my people!” He almost looked as though he were pouting, trying to express anger when he did not possess the ability to do so. “You interrupted!”

“If you’ll not respect them, then at least respect _yourself.”_

“What are you, my mom or something?!” Noctis staggered back, and Ravus didn’t reach out a hand to either stop or steady him. “Let me just have some gods damn fun _before_ I have to be the king of Lucis!”

There was no stopping him as the prince turned and scrambled away. Or perhaps, Ravus _could_ have stopped him easily, given the prince’s drunken status, but there was little point to the continued conversation and Ravus was beginning to sport a headache. Gnawing away beneath his temples, exacerbated by the anger coiled into his veins.

He was in dire need of another drink, come to think of it. Something stronger, and free-flowing.

The bar he sought out was less visited, away from the bustle of the main throng of partygoers. Perhaps his countenance frightened away anyone who had been there, but more the better. He sat with a glass of whiskey, and glared at the pristine bar top as he drank.

It was puzzling. Certainly it was his duty to stand up for the honor of his family– connected as though the Caelums and Fleurets would soon be– and by extension, Lunafreya herself. Would that she could be here, desired from her own lips, but Ravus was glad that she was not to witness the prince of Lucis’s shameful displays.

There was still something, however, that he could not quite pinpoint… the emotions he felt, and so he blamed it entirely on the drink in his hand, and the ones that had been there prior during the evening. He would let his anger simmer, and then force himself to rejoin the mingling. He would not let his mind linger on the prince of Lucis, and the red mark that must have been stinging at his throat.

Little chance, especially when the prince himself eventually came staggering up, champagne flute in hand. (Ah, champagne. That slightly explained the prince’s behavior, especially if he had adhered to drinking only that.)

“No one’ll talk to me,” he complained, throwing himself onto the barstool next to Ravus. “They keep thinking _you’re_ going to show up and tear their heads off.”

“Am I to be blamed for _your_ asinine choices?” Why had he followed him? Merely to complain? Gods. Another gulp of his drink, the burn winding down to his stomach.

“‘s not fair,” the prince mumbled.

“If life was fair, we'd need not be celebrating an amicable meeting between our countries in the first place,” Ravus said dryly. “Life isn't fair. You should be used to it by now.”

“I'm not drinkin’ to _remember_ life sucks, thanks.” He reached for the bottle of whiskey sat next to Ravus's left elbow.

Ravus whisked it away. “You are not of age.”

 _“That's_ what you take offense to?” Noctis squinted. “Now? _Really?”_

Not particularly, he thought, but then the young prince didn't need the liquid encouragement. Stick to his champagne as he might, Ravus would hold the hard liquor out of reach. If only to save it for himself.

“Fiiiiine.” Noctis gestured for a passing butler, clicking his fingers noiselessly. “Keep your… whatever. It all tastes like shit.”

“Then stop _drinking_ it.” Honestly, it was as if he were talking to a child. At seventeen, Noctis should have outgrown this years ago.

“I'll have to talk to you if I don't, and I don't think _either_ of us want that, huh?” Perhaps his expression was meant to be severe. It was not.

He had a point, though. Leave the prince to his distractions, and he would stay to his own. _Staying out of it,_ he kept telling himself.

He recognized that the chance of Noctis holding his tongue was slim in itself, given how loose-lipped the alcohol seemed to make him. For the time, however, Ravus merely watched the prince from the corner of his eye, under premise of being interested in the proceedings about the room. Noctis wasn’t in any position to notice if he had outright begun to stare, regardless, but Ravus wouldn’t stoop quite so low.

The years had changed him. The years had changed them all, Ravus recognized. Understood that in the way Lunafreya held herself as the Oracle, how she was more a pawn of the gods than his own sister any longer. He acknowledged it in his very reflection when he cast a glance to the mirror, silver hair and a deep-set scowl. Neither of them had reason to smile, but it was only Lunafreya who would ever find that strength. On that regard, he envied her.

… he envied quite a lot about her, truthfully, but lingering was pointless and Ravus had no plans to change. He had made his decision, as too had Regis Lucis Caelum nine years ago.

Noctis was older, more distinguished. Gone were the days of childish innocence, albeit ones that had been tainted by pain and uncertainty. There was still a boyish quality to his face, a rounded jaw and lips turned down in a pout. But indeed gone were the days where Noctis was the young playmate of his sister, the child confined to a wheelchair that Ravus would dutifully push along beside Lunafreya, to where they would settle in the garden to read through various books. Noctis had always favored those with space, galaxies and constellations.

Ravus found himself wondered if he still did, if Master Scientia– ah, _Ignis_ now, seeing as though he would be nearing twenty himself– and Prince Noctis gazed at the stars as they had once used to.

Pointless knowledge. Noctis had always talked about Scientia, talked about him with the same muted enthusiasm as he did Carbuncle, his father, and Insomnia itself. The prince hated his vegetables and long car rides, and was scared of the monsters beneath his bed. Things Ravus wished he no longer remembered, but he couldn’t remove his teenage years from mind even if he so desired to.

Noctis had– drunken indignities asides– grown into a fine young man.

Were he not Lucian, and part of a larger cause for the destruction of Tenebrae, Ravus might have even paid the compliment aloud.

As it were, it was Noctis who broke the silence instead. Despite his agreement to quietude, Ravus was not surprised.

“How’s Luna, anyway?”

Common ground, if any, he supposed. “… confined to her duties,” he remarked, and sipped at his drink. It was half truth. She was confined to both duty and manor, for the sake of her safety and Niflheim’s involvement. Sometimes, he regretted that. The alcohol again, he reasoned. He truly needed to stop drinking. How much longer would this soirée last, he wondered.

“‘s she happy? Or…” Noctis looked as deep in thought as was capable. “Better than last time?”

“As opposed to how she felt when the Lucians abandoned us and our dead mother?”

“That was _not_ my fault! You know I woulda stayed… if I could’ve… if I could have helped… something…”

“The onus falls to all Lucians who did not aid us in our time of need.”

“Do you _ever_ get tired of saying the same thing?”

“Do you tire of shirking truth for misplaced lies?”

 _“Astrals,_ when did you turn into such an _asshole??”_

“When did you become such an ignoramus?”

 _“Fuck_ you,” Noctis hissed, and leaned in to deliver the line with such vehemence that he wobbled precariously on the barstool. Ravus steadied him with a hand to the shoulder, thoughts of letting the drunken prince splay himself on his face replaced with practiced civility and reflexive response.

“Perhaps not,” he said dryly, and kept his hand steady until he was certain Noctis wouldn’t topple over. As it were, he merely stared at him in reply, eyes unnaturally bright and narrowed. Or perhaps, if he were not going to sit up straight on his own, Ravus would let him fall anyway.

Noctis surged forward, and kissed him instead.

Shock filled in like color to a portrait, rendering him briefly immobile. His hand was still on the prince’s shoulder, fingers biting into skin as a preventative measure so he didn’t fall, but that hadn’t been the reason for movement. He had been intending purely to kiss him– _had_ he been intending to kiss him, or was it spur of the moment? Better still, why was he kissing him at _all!_

The champagne. Gods above, the young prince needed to sober up far more quickly than they had the time for.

Surprise came next, in the span of a split second, that he wasn’t immediately disgusted by the prospect. Noctis was a terrible kisser, tongue and teeth and saliva in a desperation that was messy against Ravus’s mouth. He ought to have been _abhorred._ Surprise came when he was not, and further solidified when he found himself sliding a hand to the prince’s cheek and _kissing him back._

They had both consumed far more than was wise. Damn this blasted alcohol and a never-ending array of beverages to choose from–

Ravus had kissed before; there was little he had not done in face of what he _had_ to in the years following Niflheim’s attack on Tenebrae. Never before had the swooping sensation settled into his gut, never so quickly the rush of heat to settle low though near his groin, and Ravus found himself curling around Noctis, bracketing his body with his own to hide him away from anyone who may be attempting to infringe upon their space–

What _was_ he doing?

Shared thoughts through shared connection; Noctis jerked back as though Ravus had been the one to personally wrong him and, this time, he truly did slip off of the barstool. Again Ravus reached out to steady him, jumping to his feet if only to keep Noctis on his, the hand at his face slipping down to accommodate at the elbow instead.

Hectic spots of color stained the prince’s cheeks, and Ravus blanched when he found it attractive to look at. He opened his mouth to say something– not an apology, certainly, perhaps instead to bite off a warning, words he hadn’t yet begun to formulate in mind– when Noctis scrambled away instead, throwing a hand over his mouth as he went.

Ravus let him go.

So certain had he been on the idea that he was angry for his own sister, and his country’s sake, he had failed to recognize the alternative. It for his _own_ benefit that he had followed Noctis to pull him away from the young man, his own anger boiling away in a sudden fit of _jealousy._

Jealousy. Such a useless thing, countered by how _terrible_ it was to find that he had been unconsciously harboring feelings for the very prince of Lucis he wanted nothing but to loathe.

How… terribly _unfortunate_.

A rude awakening, although perhaps not wholly as shocking as though it might have otherwise been. He had had two friends in his youth: one was his sister, and the other was Noctis. Nevermind the implications of falling in love with his sister’s intended– _love,_ a horrible idea.

_Reprehensible._

A soft groan, and he resumed his seat at the bar. Praise the Six that there were no photographers allowed within the meeting between nations, lest they both be damned beyond repair. Ravus gulped back the last of his glass of whiskey, and scowled into the empty glass. This drink had gotten them to this point in the first place.

… as it were, he would need it now more than ever to survive the night.

Ravus made a grab for the bottle, and tipped the mouth of it to his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by a rp I used to have with uh... bodulfr...? was that.. it? I bowed out of tumblr rp awhile ago and randomly remembered this thread that we had started and had to write it out... jealous Ravus is love and life, and a bit like that boy in middle school that would be an asshole to the person he had a crush on (not that that's a good thing, mind, but such as is the way Ravus would behave if he found himself in love with the man he's supposed to hate/the man Luna's supposed to marry)
> 
> awkward revelations all around tbh but I LOVE IT. imagine them meeting up next time when they're both sober and both just being ¬_¬ ¬_¬ ¬_¬ with their awkward alcohol-realized crushes


End file.
